


Simple Object Access Protocol

by saltslimes



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, sick fic kind of, soap is technically a poison, vague poisoning, you already know what the fuck it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 17:06:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13815624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltslimes/pseuds/saltslimes
Summary: Prompto is lightly hazed by his fellow crownsguard trainees and then things (things being his general health) take a sharp downturn. He's also wrestling with an inferiority complex the size of a behemoth, but that's kind of another story.





	Simple Object Access Protocol

**Author's Note:**

> its four am so you know what the fuck time it is  
> time for me to be back with more prompto h/c
> 
> i will never stop
> 
> I was planning to show some goddamned restraint for once and post this in 3 chapters but my end notes were so good i gave in

Keeping track of all the trainee’s names isn’t something Cor normally does. He’s bad with names. He’s bad enough with names that he has to write any new citadel employee’s name on a post-it and keep it on his desk so he doesn’t embarrass himself. But as he’s scanning the group, broken off into pairs and sparring with the training swords, he can pick out the blond one easily, and he knows his name is Prompto Argentum.

He’s the one that Cor had to do a background check on four years ago, when he started hanging out with Noctis. The one he did a second background check on when he was nominated for the crownsguard training. 

Neither of those events are why he knows the kid’s name though. He knows because last week Gladio knocked on the open door of his office and said, with uncharacteristic sobriety: “Can I come in?” 

Cor was filling out an expense form. He put his pen down.

“Yeah, take a seat.”

Gladio lumbered across the room and dropped into the chair. He scanned the office for a second. “Nice painting.” He indicated the ambiguous mountainside hanging to the left of Cor’s desk. It was there when he got the office and it would be there when he left.

“That what you came to tell me?”

“Uh, no. I wanted to talk to you about one of the trainees.”

“Right. A specific one?”

“Sorry, I’m just. What I’m about to say is gonna make me sound like a dick.”

“Because you know the kid.”

“Because I know the kid.”

“Well you can either say it or you can let me get back to these expenses. Up to you.”

“He’s crap, huh?”

“Mmm.” That’s putting it a little uncharitably. The kid has amazing reflexes. And he’s slippery enough to piss off his sparring partners. But when it comes to actually landing hits, or any kind of weapons handling for that matter… “Unpolished, certainly. I wouldn’t call him hopeless.” Cor drummed his fingers on the polished surface of the desk. Gladio rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, ‘Not hopeless; isn’t exactly the words you wanna use to describe a member of the prince’s personal entourage, is it?”

“What do you want, specifically? I can have him removed if you want, but I imagine the prince will have something to say about it, and he essentially has his majesty in his pocket these days.”

“I don’t want him--I’m just voicing a concern, is all.”

“Consider it voiced. If you’re worried about him getting preferential treatment because of Noctis, you’re worrying for nothing. He runs the same drills as everyone else and he passes or fails just like everyone else.”

“I know. I’m just--I dunno.”

“You’re Noctis’ shield. This is your job.” Cor picked up his pen. “Anything else?”

“Nah. Get back to your expenses.” Gladio closed the door behind him, again, with uncharacteristic sobriety. But Cor had observed in the time that he’d known the prince’s retainers--they were almost two sides of the same coin. For all of Ignis’ tight-lipped sarcasm and Gladio’s bluster, they pretty much mother-henned Noctis in the same way. It only looked different to the untrained eye. Gladio trained him so hard so he could protect himself and Ignis tried to do everything for him to keep him out of harm’s way.

And Gladio had the nerve to be in Cor’s office, rolling his eyes. Cor snorted. There was something of a commotion in the hall. He dropped his pen and left his office. A little ways down one trainee was helping up another, presumably who had tripped.

“Come on, let’s go.”

“Where’s the fire?” Cor called.

“Oh, uh, group B is in the shooting range doing auxiliary weapons handling and the shrimp is like, destroying apparently. Gotta see it to believe it, so we’re going up to the observation deck. Uh, sir!” The boy seemed to remember the rank of the man he was talking to at the last second, and straightened up. His companion did the same.

“Well that certainly sounds worth watching. But let’s walk there, since I don’t feel like dealing with accident reports.” Cor strode past the two of them as the other boy flushed beet red.

“Yes sir!” one of them squeaked.

The observation deck was crowded with onlookers, but they parted to let Cor up to the front. He folded his arms. Prompto Argentum was squared up at the shooting range, rifle in hand, firing with one eye shut. Three shots--the first just missed the centre of the target, and the third as well. The instructor spoke briefly before taking the rifle and handing Prompto a pistol--one of the old heavy ones, almost impossible to aim with, especially if you were accustomed to having sights.

Prompto took aim again. Pretty much everything about his form was wrong, the stance, his shoulders. Three shots. Cor’s mouth fell open. Those two weren’t misses. He lined them up on the target to make a straight line. And that was obvious now, because he’d just done it for a second time. The kid glanced up at the observation deck as he handed back the gun. When he saw Cor his eyes went wide. 

Cor suppressed the urge to grin. There was something hilarious about this whole situation. Or it would be hilarious, if it didn’t involve Cor’s job.

xXx

PROMPTO: omfg

PROMPTO: NOCT

PRINCE EMO HAIR: ??? whats happening dude?

PROMPTO: okay so

PROMPTO: are u sitting down?

PRINCE EMO HAIR: wtf dude just tell me

PRINCE EMO HAIR: *pissedoffgladio.jpeg*

PROMPTO: you promised not to send that anymore

PROMPTO: his eyes… are boring into my soul

PRINCE EMO HAIR: …

PROMPTO: okay! So here i am bombing training as per usual

PROMPTO: and then we start doing like, off-weapons? So guns etc

PROMPTO: and uhhhh… im pretty good? I mean, i used to practice with this BB gun in my yard

PROMPTO: basically, i was shooting the targets and COR THE FREAKING IMMORTAL was staring me down from the observation deck

PRINCE EMO HAIR: lol, prom

PRINCE EMO HAIR: talent discovered

PRINCE EMO HAIR: ur the new favorite i bet

PROMPTO: yeah right

PROMPTO: *unimpressedignis.png*

PRINCE EMO HAIR: okay, see, you using that one is why gladio is never going away

GLADMAN: 20 messages. Cool. time to mute the fucking chat again

PRINCE EMO HAIR: imagine how bad iggy would kill us if he didn’t mute it 1000 years ago

PROMPTO: O-O

xXx

Prompto stuffed his phone into his pocket and picked up his bag from the bench.

“Hey Argentum.”

At the sound of his name, he spun on his heel, and came face-to-face (or face-to-chest, more realistically) with one of the other trainees. Shit, he knew this guy’s name, right? They’d been sparring together all day. He’d hit Prompto with his training sword what felt like hard enough to put him in the hospital.

“Fortis, are we leaving or what? We’re gonna miss the train.”

“Yeah, we’re leaving. Hey. Tomorrow you’re my sparring partner again, ‘kay?”

“Uh, yup! No problem.”

“Congrats on your newfound talent,” the guy behind Fortis said. Prompto would have thanked him if there wasn’t something carnivorous in his smile. Fortis snorted.

“Yeah, congrats. Although, if I were you, I might be focusing on… I don’t know, skill we’ll actually be tested on. Just a thought.”

“Thanks for the tip, buddy!” Prompto patted the guy on the arm as he stepped past him. Now, in retrospect, that was probably a mistake. But, hey, making mistakes is part of being an adult, right? Someone said that to him. Maybe his mom. He expected to get shoved, or maybe even decked. What he got instead was a hard elbow to the gut, strong enough that it knocked the wind out of him. They left him gasping and drooling on his hands and knees. Their laughter echoed on the tile floor.

So in about five minutes, when Gladio came around the corner looking sweaty and large (as he usually did), Prompto was lying on his side with his back to the wall and his bag hugged to his chest, still trying to get his breathing evened out. He choked on his spit when he saw Gladio, which didn’t help.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

“Oh, you know. Managed to trip on level ground again.”

“Always a good quality in a prospective crownsguard.”

“Hahaha. Don’t I know it. Hey, do me a favor?”

“Yeah?” Gladio actually crouched down beside him.

“Oh, I was gonna say step on my neck while you’re up there.”

Gladio actually laughed, which counted as some kind of small victory to Prompto.

“Okay well, I gotta go pick up Iris so--keep doing what you’re doing I guess.”

“Thanks I totally will.” Prompto gave him a thumbs up and tried to ignore what he knew was an incredibly strong blush spreading down from his cheeks all the way to his goddamn shoulders. When Gladio was gone he heaved himself first into a sitting position, then to his feet, then the rest of the way home.

xXx

When he was eleven, Prompto arranged the books on his shelf in alphabetical order, and a week later his parents came home. It felt like maybe he had some power over something. Like maybe there was an action he could take that would usher them back sooner or delay them longer. In psychiatry, this is called “magical thinking,” but Prompto would never learn this.

When he was eleven, he kept a strictly ordered set of items on his windowsill. Camera, eye drops, empty pill bottle, packet of tissues, picture frame. When he got up in the morning he brushed them off to make sure they were free of dust. When he went to sleep they were the last thing he looked at before he closed the curtains.

The camera was his most prized possession, a birthday gift when he turned ten. The eye drops he needed for when his vision got blurred--the house was dry. The empty pill bottle reminded him of his father brushing sweaty hair out of his eyes. The picture frame held an image of the three of them, standing in front of the Royal Lucian museum. Prompto was beaming the way he never did in photos anymore. His mother had this distant smile that without the photo, he would have long since forgotten the shape of.

When he was eleven, they left him alone for three months. This was the longest they had ever been separated. Prompto forgot to water the plants in the back garden, and they withered and died. He lay on the cold sheets in his parent’s empty bedroom. Even his father’s ties were gone. It was as if no one had ever lived there. It was as if Prompto had dreamed them up.

When they came home, he showed them his A+ in math and science. He showed them his pictures of the park. He had this sense, in the back of his mind, that something would be  _ enough _ . That there was something he could do that would captivate them so much so that they might stick around.

xXx

His mother pressed a kiss to his cheek. Even as she was pulling away, Prompto could tell he was marked with burgundy lipstick.

“Aw, mom. I gotta go to school after this.”

“Let me have just this, since I won’t see you for so long.”

“Hey, we’re going to miss the train if we don’t go now,” Prompto’s dad called. It’s easy to smile. Prompto had found this out recently. He practiced in coffee shops, at the library, but mostly at school. It was genuinely shocking how much it changed his interactions with people. Suddenly they were more open with him. More permissive. More friendly. He felt like he’d unlocked some secret treasure. A second stage in a beloved video game. And yet.

He felt more distant from his parents than he ever had. Which was just as well, because they were mid-way through saying goodbye, for no less than six months.

“I love you.” It came out easier than Prompto was hoping. It came out naturally. His mother nodded curtly. Her expression was almost pained. It was whatever is next to pained. It was the expression people make at a nice dinner when there’s a wasp at the table. Prompto sure felt like a wasp. He felt like acrid soil where nothing could grow.

His father clapped him on the shoulder before they both got in the cab.

“Be safe. We love you,” he said. Prompto tried to make that echo in his head. He tried to make that stronger than any other thought. He tried to drown out the chorus with it. If he succeeded, that might have made a nice story. It would have been about a boy overcoming his insecurities. It would have been about a newly confident commoner hilariously befriending the prince. And the thing is, that story is close enough to the truth that it could almost be called reality.

But the truth is, the first time Noctis talked to him, Prompto spent the next ten minutes in the school bathroom heaving for breath like he was going to vomit up his lungs. It got better. But it wasn’t easy. It never felt like a victory. It felt like eventually becoming normal. It felt like nothing more than finally measuring up.

xXx

It was pretty easy to guess that Gladio and Ignis didn't like him. Prompto wasn’t the best in any social situation, but he wasn’t oblivious either. If he had to guess, he’d say it was a combination of things. He was loud, he talked a lot, he was always over at Noct’s place letting him talk him out of studying. He was a commoner who only got into their school on a scholarship. And he was kind of prone to spilling things.

So that was friendship with Ignis pretty much nixed. Gladio’s distain seemed to stem mostly from Prompto being, well, bad at crownsguard training, and, in his own words “pretty shrimpy.” Prompto hadn’t really minded being shrimpy when they started high school. Now it felt like a major character flaw.

Despite being painfully aware that Gladio and Ignis didn’t particularly care for him, Prompto found that the longer he knew them both the more he liked them. It was different from his instant “click” with Noctis. Their friendship just felt utterly easy and natural to Prompto, like the best thing in the world, the rightest thing, was when they were hanging out. But the longer he spent hanging out at Noct’s or tagging along to training, the more he started to really enjoy Ignis’ brutal sarcasm and Gladio’s gruff humor.

He figured, okay, they didn’t have to like him. They’d let him stick around because Noctis liked him. And he’d stick around Noctis until he got sick of him, and call it a good run. At the very least, he’s fulfilled his promise to Lady Lunafreya. Getting to protect Noctis would be amazing. But realistically, when it came down to it… even if he measured up, someone was gonna put their foot down. Maybe the king himself. But somebody. They weren’t actually gonna put Prompto in a position of responsibility when it came to the  _ crown prince of Lucis. _

xXx

Prompto woke up ten minutes late for training, rolled out of bed tangled on his blankets and fell on his side (which still hurt somehow). He spent five minutes face down on the carpet groaning before he was able to shove himself to his feet and bust out the door half dressed without breakfast. At least he had his bag.

He arrived only five minutes late to training, out of breath and almost definitely red in the face. Oh great. Gladio and Cor were running the drills today. He shuffled into line hoping no one would notice.

“The list of first cuts is posted on the board outside, you can all take a look at it and then come back in and start warming up. The list isn’t based on your aggregate scores, but on our assessments of your potential.” Cor clapped his hands together. Prompto wondered if he thought that smile looked comforting. Gladio’s expression was much easier to read: intimidating, pretty much what he was always wearing.

“If you didn’t make the cut, there’s always next year.” If Gladio looked at Prom when he said that, he didn’t know, because he fixed his eyes on the wood grain of the training hall floor.

“Okay, dismissed,” Cor said. Prompto filed into the hall behind the crowd of other trainees and soon-to-be ex-trainees. Everyone was clamoring over the list, calling back names. Three people thinned from the crowd immediately, while some of trainees whooped and hollered at finding their names on the list of hopefuls not cut from the program.

“Hey, big surprise, the prince’s pet commoner didn’t get cut,” Fortis called. Laughter bubbled up from the crowd and then quickly died when a few trainees noticed Prompto was among them. He was just close enough to see Fortis’ name, but he didn’t need to look to know he didn’t get cut. Of course he didn’t, he was best in the group easily.

He started heading back into the training hall but a hand fell heavy on his shoulder.

“Remember, you’re sparring with me today. Let’s see if you have any more hidden talents.”

“Thanks Fortis, you’re such a pal,” Prompto said, and then considered actually smacking himself in the face. This absolute inability to think strategically was probably another reason why Gladio and Ignis didn’t like having him around.

Fortis, for his part, just laughed. At least he was a shithead with a fun positive energy. Could be worse probably. 

Training went better than Prompto expected. Fortis didn’t go easy on him, but if he concentrated, it felt like he was actually getting better at dodging and blocking. Gladio came down their row at one point and actually complimented his stance. He thought that would probably earn him an extra hard hit from Fortis, but miraculously he just threw off his gloves and started marching away.

“Uh, are you admitting defeat?”

“I’m getting a drink, idiot.” Fortis rolled his eyes. Prompto dropped onto the mat and did a few push-ups, trying to stay warmed up. Every time he took a breath his side felt like it was tearing. He’d never bruised anything this bad before. He checked it out the night before and it was deep purple, spreading wide across his left side. After about ten push-ups his left shoulder seized up so he dropped onto his back on the mats.

Fortis’s face came into view overhead.

“What, you done already?”

“Just waiting for you. You took your sweet time.”

“I was thirsty.” Fortis cracked a shark-like grin. Lucky for Prompto, the instructor switched drills a minute later. Running laps. Easy as shit. Except that even at his usual pace, his side ached and throbbed. And his shoulder was apparently just going to suck now? He huffed a breath as a few more people passed him, dropping him into last place. From across the room he could even see Gladio with one eyebrow raised, arms folded, watched with bemused distaste. Fucking spectacular. He didn’t know why he talked Noct into this in the first place.

One of Fortis’ buddies fell back out of pace to jog beside Prompto.

“Hey man, you look wrecked. Go grab some water if you’re doing this bad.”

“Thanks for the tip, dude.” Okay, now he  _ had _ to get his shit together. Training hurts. The first week he started running he actually thought he would die. Gladio and Noctis had endured way worse than this. Pain is just a thing that happens to you. It’s not everything, Prompto told himself. He pushed harder and caught up to the pack.

Sweat ran down his back. His shirt was glued to his back. His vision actually greyed out for a second. He focussed on his breathing. He pushed harder and pulled to the front.

By the time they were doing cooldowns it didn’t even hurt much anymore. It was like how sometimes you could stretch through a cramp. Prompto hit the showers, got changed, and grabbed his bag and water bottle.

He ran into Gladio outside.

“Hey, nice work today.”

“Uh, I know I was crap. But I’m really trying.”

“You weren’t… it’s good that you’re working at it. Maybe try not to zone out so much during drills.”

“Ahah, I know. I’m working on it, seriously!”

Gladio rubbed the back of his neck. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but then he just nodded.

“See ya later.”

“Yeah, see ya!” Prom waved to him. Now he had just enough time to get back to school. They let him reconfigure his schedule so that he had mornings off on Fridays to attend crownsguard training. It helped that he basically had all the credits he needed to graduate, and despite Noct’s best efforts, his grades were pretty good. Of course, his parents had to sign off, but Prompto learned how to forge their signatures when he was thirteen.

He met Noctis at the front gates, eyes glued to his phone and posture hunched the way it got when someone tried to talk to “prince” Noctis.

“Sup, buddy?”

Noctis looked up and grinned.

“Thought you weren’t gonna make it.”

“And miss the trip? No way. I wanna get pictures of all the buildings.”

“Only you would be excited for a trip to a freaking  _ university _ .”

“I like architecture. You can like architecture and still be cool.” 

Noctis just rolled his eyes. “Hey, no camera?”

“Eh, it was too heavy to bring to training. I’ll just make do with my phone.”

Noctis’ only response to this was a shrug. He was back on his own phone, still trying to beat the level he’s been stuck on all week. Prompto beat it three days earlier so it was already a sore spot. He bounced off to put his bag in his locker but grabbed out his water bottle before he shut it. He’d probably get thirsty walking around, he figured.

While they were on the bus the pain in his shoulder started coming back, and then his side, but he distracted himself by teasing Noct relentlessly about his inability to beat the level.

“You want me to do it? I’ll own you in a second.”

“Fuck off.” Noctis shoved him lightly into the seat. He bit his lip to keep from making a sound, but when Noctis glanced at him a second later his gaze lingered. “You okay dude? You look kinda pale.”

“I’m always pale. I’m probably the palest guy you know.”

“Hey, remember when you got super sunburned at the park? We weren’t even in the sun. I think I still got a picture of those tan lines.”

“Dude, I will throw your phone out the window, I’m not kidding.”

“Only if you wanna die.”

“You wouldn’t You can buy a new phone, can’t buy a new me.” The bus pulled to a stop before Noctis could (from the looks of it) finish assembling his retort, so he settled for messing up Prompto’s hair, which was supposed to be off limits after what Ignis referred to as the “Great Rift of October.” The only time since that start of their friendship that they didn’t text for an entire week.

“Hey man! Remember the rift.”

“All right, sorry. That was too far.” Noctis was trying to contain a grin.

Off the bus their small class met up with the tour guide, who was evidently more than a little nervous to be chaperoning the crown prince around campus, and kept glancing in his direction. Noctis, for his part, wandered around at the back of the group with his hands stuffed in his pockets, looking like he was hoping to get back on the bus and sleep. Prompto snapped pics of the tall stained glass windows, the cathedral-like main building, and the sun-bathed yellow-brick residences.

They stopped out front of a statue of some dude on a chair and the tour guide started explaining his no doubt important role in the founding of the university. Prompto unscrewed the cap on his water bottle and chugged half of it. Three swallows in he coughed and peered into the bottle. It had this weird taste to it, almost like… soap?

“What the fuck?” he mumbled.

“What?” Noctis turned to look at him.

“Nothing, I dunno. Does this smell weird to you?”

Noctis went to take the proffered bottle, but the group was moving again.

“Isn’t it water? What’s it smell like?” he asked, jogging to keep up. They were passing beside one of the larger buildings, under a set of scaffolding covering the facade. Distantly, Prompto could hear the tour guide saying something about restoration. His mouth tasted so bad he wanted to gag, a thick bitterness coating his tongue.

He stopped to pour the water out. Noctis tugged on his shirt.

“We’re getting left behind. I don’t wanna be stuck here longer than we have to be.”

“Hang on, I’m coming.” The group was already beginning to leave without them, although Prompto could see the tour guide hanging back a little, trying to make sure they were keeping up. There was a sound from above them, a loud scraping, and then Prompto heard a voice say: “Oh, fuck!” And he saw something drop through the scaffolding.

He didn’t really think. Thinking might have been good in this situation, but instead what he did was barrel forward, effectively tackling Noct to the ground. There was a huge thud behind them. Noctis groaned into the concrete.

The next things that happened were a blur. Someone heaved Prompto to his feet. Noctis was bleeding from a cut on his temple. In the spot where he’s been standing, a huge chunk of rock had cracked the pavement in half. The tour guide rushed over to them.

“Someone grab our first aid kit! Spread out, give him room to breathe.”

“You shouldn’t give him a potion if he’s concussed,” someone put in. Their teacher pulled out his phone.

“Noctis, I’m going to call your guardian okay?”

“Noctis, can you tell me how many fingers I’m holding up?” The tour guide asked. Noctis rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, call him. And three. You gonna ask me who the king is?”

“Um, no.” The tour guide flushed. Prompto spotted Noctis’ phone. It had skidded across the ground when he… oh boy, tackled the crown prince to the ground, that was smooth. He picked it up and and brought it back to Noctis, who had been moved to the steps where he was waiting on a first aid kit and presumably Ignis. 

He was surrounded by people having a worried conversation over his head, and Prompto could tell almost immediately that he was more pained by the way he was being treated at the moment than the physical injury. And he did that, nice.

“Hey bud, I got your phone, you want it?” He crouched down beside Noctis, who had one eye shut and his face scrunched up.

“No, I’ll just lose it, you hold onto it for me.”

“Kay. Are you concussed?”

“Nah, I know what concussed feels like. Don’t tell them though, I get to ditch now.”

“Jeez dude,” Prompto almost laughed but at that moment it became clear to him that he was going to puke. “Berightback.” He stood up and ducked inside. Yeah, they came through this building already. And she pointed out the bathrooms, they were right in the lobby on the left. Prompto shoved the door open, slipped past a startled-looking student and kicked the stall door shut behind him.

It took him six minutes of dry heaving before he actually puked. It tasted just as bad coming up as it did going down. He rested his head on the side of the seat, trying not to think about how many germs were probably on it. His fingers were shaking, and there was snot dripping down his face.

xXx

Gladio drummed his fingers on his knees while Ignis pulled back onto the road.

“So he hit his head how?”

“No one was particularly clear about that, but he’s awake and apparently answering questions without difficulty.”

“He’s had worse.” Gladio was slightly annoyed at the sudden detour to pick up a prince who was probably really enjoying the opportunity to get out of what he considered a boring field trip. He was remembering why he didn’t take rides from Ignis anymore.

“Well, certainly.” But Ignis’ hands were tight on the wheel. Gladio leaned back in his seat and watched the scenery fly by.

“Pushing the speed limit a little there.”

“Everyone on the phone was an idiot. I just want to… It’s reasonable to want to assess the situation myself.”

“Right, of course.”

They arrived at the campus a little faster than was strictly legal, but Ignis stepped out of the car with all the same composure he usually possessed. Noctis was on the front steps, surrounded by people and looking like a cat that’s been pet one too many times. Gladio had to stifle a laugh. He didn’t spot the prince’s partner in crime nearby, to his immense surprise.

“Noctis, let me have a look at that,” Ignis said, striding up and starting to shoo people away and reassure the teacher and tour guide that they could take it from here.

“Where’s your sidekick?” Gladio asked, folding his arms.

“Inside. Going to the bathroom I think.”

“Can’t believe they called Ignis out here for that tiny cut.”

“Better safe than sorry, Gladio.”

“Pfft. There’s such a thing as too safe.”

“Normally I’d agree but I’m getting the fuck out of here.”

“Yes well.” Ignis pinched the bridge of his nose. “Think you can walk?”

“We can’t go yet, Prom’s not back.”

“We’re taking him with us suddenly?”

“He’s got my phone.”

“Right. So I go get him or your phone and then we’re leaving?” Gladio looked from Ignis to Noctis. Ignis gave him a look like “what are you waiting for?” Noctis just shrugged.

“Go get him already, my head hurts.”

“God, you’re such a baby whenever you’re hurt.” Gladio marched inside. It took him a minute to find the bathrooms. He went to push open the door and almost bowled over Prompto who was sheet white and looked like his bones had the consistency of paper.

“What the fuck happened to you?” he blurted out.

“I dunno, I just threw up. There was something in my water.”

“In your water? You still got the bottle?”

Listing into the doorframe, Prompto handed it over. Gladio sniffed it. He wiped a bit of the residual liquid and tasted it. Urgh. Soap. A memory crystallizes. Actually two. The first is spitting his juice into the sink and then chasing Iris through the house. A long lecture from their dad about the prank war getting out of hand. And then Cor, just three months ago, complaining to him about the pranks the last batch of trainees pulled--namely putting soap in people’s water bottles.

“Yikes. Sorry kid, looks like one of the trainees is jealous of your marksman skills.”

“Haha. I’m so proud,” Prompto wheezed. He didn’t seem to even be able to stand up straight.

“Come kid, let’s get you in the car.”

“Wha? Is the bus leaving already? Shit, I have Noct’s phone. Oh, is Noct okay? I shouldn’t have shoved him so hard but I just saw the rock coming down and I--” Prompto cut himself off before Gladio could, clapping a hand over his mouth. Gladio took a cautious step back (Iris was a projectile vomiter when she was a kid).

“Noct’s fine. You gonna be sick again?”

Prompto shook his head.

“Okay, come on.” He put a hand on Prompto’s shoulder and guided him out of the building. Ignis was waiting on the steps with the car pulled up, and presumably Noctis inside. His expression of annoyance slipped into curiosity when Gladio and Prompto emerged.

“Is Noctis okay?” Prompto asked as soon as they got down to the car. Gladio resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“What on earth happened to you?” Ignis glanced from Gladio to Prompto like this was somehow his fault.

“Some little shits from crownsguard put soap in his water bottle.”

“Hmm. Casually poisoning your fellow men doesn’t seem like a particularly desirable trait in a member of the crownsguard, but what do I know? Prompto, why don’t you get in the back and we’ll give you a ride home?”

“Thanks,” Prompto mumbled. Even the tiny amount of snark he was able to summon in the bathroom seemed to have drained out of him. Gladio hopped into the front and Ignis pulled away quickly.

“Is your head okay?”

“Yeah dude, s’barely even cut. You know head wounds bleed like crazy. You look like shit by the way, are you okay?”

“It seems that a few of the crownsguard trainees played something of a practical joke on him.”

“A what?” In the rearview mirror, Gladio saw Noctis sit up straight, no longer wearing the relaxed and smug expression from a minute ago.

“They put soap in his water bottle. It’s kind of a classic. Most people don’t manage to chug the whole bottle, you know.”

“I didn’t. I only got through like half.”

“Still, we should at least commend your tenacity.”

“Or his obliviousness,” Gladio snorted. He did feel bad for Prompto, who was clearly feeling like shit. But it was kind of funny. At least, it  _ was _ kind of funny, right up until Prompto gagged without warning and puked down the front of his shirt.

“Oh, Prompto, I could have pulled over,” Ignis sighed.

“Shit, Ignis!” Noct cried, and Gladio couldn’t remember the last time he heard stress like that in Noct’s voice. He twisted in his seat. Prompto had a hand clamped over his mouth, tears threatening to spill over. There was blood and foam decorating the front of his shirt, already staining the white fabric.

“Oh, fuck.”

“I’m driving right now, someone talk to me,” Ignis snapped.

“He’s puking up blood,” Gladio said softly. Prompto gagged again and whimpered quietly.

“Right. Detour then.” Without any further warning, Ignis pulled a sharp u-turn.

“Where are we going?” Noctis asked.

“Hospital.” Ignis’ hands were tight on the wheel again.

“Right.”

“Wh--Noct, you okay?” Prompto asked. His voice was slightly slurred. Gladio glanced over at Ignis. Ignis was already looking his way.

“I hate this. Guy training for the crownsguard did this? What the fuck.” Noctis looked about pissed enough to warp out of the car (which he had done before) but he stayed put, presumably for Prompto’s sake.

“Why’s it this bad?” Gladio murmured.

“We don’t know what type of soap it was. Both detergents and soaps have surfactants but the ones in detergent are particularly harmful.”

“I don’t really get any of that.”

“Some soap burns the esophagus and stomach,” Ignis said plainly. Gladio winced.

“He’s gonna be okay, right?” Noctis’ voice was uncharacteristically small.

“I would imagine so.” Nice even answer. Gladio watched Prompto in the rearview mirror. He was seating in his seat and breathing through his nose.

The hospital waiting room was unfortunately crowded, but people looked twice at the prince striding in with a cut on his forehead and Gladio supporting Prompto. Ignis strode up towards the triage nurse, who fumbled the pen he was holding, but Noctis beat him to the desk.

“Uh, your highness, do you need medical assistance?”

“What? Oh, no, it’s fine. My friend is puking up blood.”

“Oh, okay. Come sit down over here.”

Gladio would have thought that “puking up blood” would have the effect of getting people to hop to it, but instead they asked him some questions for a few minutes, took his blood pressure, slapped a wristband on him and sent him over to the waiting area. Ignis immediately vacated the hospital to make some calls and re-park the car, leaving Gladio on babysitting duty. Noctis slumped into a chair and somehow, of all things, fell asleep. That utter bastard.

Gladio jiggled his leg. There were a few magazines on the table beside him, but nothing in their glossy covers particularly interested him. He was supposed to be at dinner, with his dad of all people, but of course Ignis forced him to bail the minute they got the call about Noctis. He could probably bail now, since Prompto was in the hands of Noctis and Ignis and the hospital staff. But he’d already missed dinner so there didn’t seem to be much of a point.

Prompto hunched in on himself a little more. Gladio pressed a hand to his forehead, even though he knew they had just checked his temperature. It was some kind of instinct leftover from Iris that would bubble to the surface at random times. His forehead was cool and clammy, not hot at all. He listed to the side, leaning towards Gladio.

“Hey, talk to me. What hurts? Your throat feel bad? I could probably get you some water.”

“Nuh. My chest hurts.”

“Your chest?”

“It feels like I--” he had to huff for breath. “Feels like I tore something puking. Urgh.” Prompto had been keeping his hand to his left side the whole way there. He wasn’t really holding it though… his hand was just covering the spot. Gladio thought back. The kid was slow running today. Normally he lead the pack. And he was favoring one side, wasn’t he?

“Hey kid, did you get hit in training?”

“Wha?” Prompto blinked at him blearily.

“Move your arms.” As gently as possible, Gladio pulled Prompto’s arm away from his chest. He only had to twitch his shirt up part way to see the bruise--blood-black, spreading up his abdomen to his ribs. “Oh, shit.”

“I feel like garbage,” Prompto wheezed.

“Yeah, I fucking bet. Hang on. Stay right there.” His heart was pounding in his ears as he stood, strode up to the triage nurse, who was doing intake with a little old lady.

“I--my friend’s ribs are probably broken. He needs someone to look at him right now. He can’t breathe.” The triage nurse got up from his desk and crossed to where Prompto was sitting. Noct had woken up and he was out of his seat standing over Prompto.

“Prompto? Hey, Prompto, can you hear me?” The triage nurse asked. He tapped Prompto’s cheek. “Okay, I’m gonna get someone to go grab a gurney.”

“What happened?” Noctis asked.

“He’s hurt. I didn’t notice,” Gladio ground out. 

Prompto half woke up when they loaded him onto the gurney.

“Where’s Noct?”

“Can you call his parents?” someone asked. Gladio dropped into a chair as they pushed Prompto through the doors. Noctis chased after him, but returned to the waiting room ten or so minutes later.

“He’s getting a CT scan so they can figure out if they can give him a potion or what.” He flopped into a chair. His expression was grim, but Gladio recognized it. He was on the verge of tears.

“Ribs?”

“They think his spleen is torn or ruptured or whatever.”

“Ignis can’t get ahold of his parents.”

“Indeed, they’re not answering their phones. I could swing by his house, perhaps--”

“They’re not home,” Noctis said, eyes fixed on a dent in the worn linoleum.

“Beg pardon?” Ignis lowered himself into a seat wearily.

“They’re not home, they’re on a business trip in Altissia.”

“For how long, exactly?” Gladio said.

“I dunno. They’re never home. That’s why Prom always hangs out at my place so much.”

Ignis pressed hand to his mouth. That right there was barely-contained rage if Gladio had ever seen it.

“Well, I’m gonna go get some people kicked out of the training program.”

“I’m gonna tell my dad where I am.”

“I’ll just… wait for news, shall I?” Ignis folded his hands in his lap. Yup, he looked absolutely furious.

“Don’t worry Specs, I’ll get you a coffee while I’m at it.”

xXx

Prompto didn’t end up needing surgery, but he did have two blood transfusions. They let Noctis and co. in to see him five hours later, when he was propped up on pillows and loopy on pain meds. As soon as he laid eyes on Noctis he burst into tears, which really made Gladio want to put his fist through a wall. Hospitals have thin walls too, so it wouldn’t even be hard.

He looked bare in that hospital gown, the only remnants of his usual self evident in the wristband he was still wearing.

“Did you guys really wait around the whole time?” Prompto asked, wiping his nose on the back of his wrist even as Ignis primly offered him another tissue. “Oh, thanks Iggy.” 

“Yeah, of course. I was afraid you were gonna  _ die _ dude. You threw up blood in the car.”

“Oh yeah, shit, sorry about that.”

Ignis pursed his lips. Gladio groaned.

“If it has to get cleaned or whatever I can--um, figure something out, but it might take a bit because I have to try to get in touch with my parents, and--oh shit, nobody told them, right? I don’t want them to freak out or anything--”

“Prompto!” Don’t put your fist through the wall, don’t put your fist through the wall, don’t put your fist through the wall. “Slow down, buddy.” Gladio dropped into the spare seat beside where Ignis was pacing (Noctis was on the end of the bed, arms folded tightly over his chest).

“No one is mad about the car. You didn’t even get blood in it. If you did, that would be fine. It wasn’t your fault, you were hurt and sick.”

“Ah, we tried to get in touch with your parents but they were not available to talk.”

Prompto slumped back into the pillows. Suddenly he looked exhausted. Suddenly he looked even shrimpier than before. This guy, of all people, saved Noctis’ life, Gladio thought. Maybe he needed to treat Prompto like one of his romance novels and quit judging him by the cover.

“You scared the hell out of me, Prom.”

“Aww. Sorry. But look, I’m fine!” Prom waved his arms, wincing when he tugged on his IV. “Ow. Fuck.”

“Take it easy,” Gladio said.

“I am taking it easy.”

“Easier than that. Please, I beg of you,” Ignis said, leaning back against the wall.

“Okay. Um, I’m gonna fall asleep in like three seconds because I’m actually high as fuck. This is the highest I’ve ever been in my life.”

“Dude as if you’ve done a drug.”

“You don’t know me, maybe I was a bad boy before we were friends.”

“You were like thirteen before we were friends so I doubt it.”

“Ooh I’m prince Noct and I know everything. I’m the…” Prompto actually just trailed off, blinked at the ceiling for a minute, and then conked out entirely.

“Wow he like, entered another plane of reality at the end there,” Noctis whispered.

“Perhaps we should let him get some rest. We can come back a bit later.”

“Nah, I’ll stick around,” Gladio said. Ignis and Noctis both gave him a raised eyebrow. “Gotta catch up on my book,” he said, and when they remained, looking entirely unconvinced he said: “It’d be shitty to wake up here alone. And he’s gonna be in pain, and out of it, and maybe sick.”

“Right. Well we’ll be back soon then,” Ignis said. After they’d gone Gladio texted Noctis to bring him some food, and then thought better of it and texted Ignis as well. He told Iris and his dad where he was. He opened his book but didn’t read it. Half an hour later a nurse came in and they communicated almost silently while she checked the IV and moved around the room.

“He family?” she asked.

“Just a friend.”

“It’s nice of you to stay with him. He’s lucky to have a friend like you.”

“I guess.” When she left he still didn’t read the book. He watched sun set outside the window and he traced the lines in the thin curtains. He stayed there not reading until Prompto woke up and blinked tears of of his eyes, and he held his hand until the nurse came in to give him pain meds, and rubbed his back when he almost puked again.

“Thought you guys didn’t like me,” Prompto mumbled. He was leaning against Gladio’s chest, and Gladio was sitting on the very edge of the bed with an arm around him, feeling like he was doing a kind of shitty job being comforting. Nice of Prompto to choose that moment to twist the knife.

“You thought that?”

“I dunno. Yeah?”

“Why?”

“I’m annoying? I’m kind of stupid?”

Gladio pulled away to look at Prompto, but he had his face turned.

“Dude, I don’t think that.”

“I know you don’t want me on the crownsguard. I probably wouldn’t want me on it either,” Prompto mumbled. He was picking at his hospital bracelet.

“I was nervous about you being on the crownsguard because I didn’t know if a civilian with little training would be able to think fast and ready to give his life up for the prince. That’s what I thought. Clearly I was wrong.”

“What?”

“You saved Noct’s life today. He told us about what happened at the campus. And you did it while you were injured and poisoned, which is pretty impressive.”

Prompto looked up at Gladio with big wide eyes and for a second Gladio felt like, heck, I’ve still got it, comforting people is easy. Then he burst into tears. He cried and the crying obviously made the pain worse and Gladio held him while his heart pounded because oh, fuck, I broke the kid, Noctis is gonna warp strike a sword into my Astrals-damned face.

“Buddy, it’s okay. Shh, it’s okay.” Nothing he said really helped. Prompto cried into his shoulder until he suddenly trailed off.

“Sorry. Sorry, there’s snot on your shirt,” Prompto mumbled, half-laughing. Gladio laughed out of sheer terror and nervousness.

“I’m not bothered. You know Iris has thrown up on me on four separate occasions?”

“No way? And I didn’t get to join the club?” Prompto's eyes were half-closed. Gladio lowered him back onto the pillows.

“Maybe next time, huh?”

“Yeah. Hell yeah. Just wait, I’m gonna… ngh. I’m gonna throw up on you. Later.”

The fun part was, when he was discharged Gladio took him back to his place so he wouldn’t be stuck at home with no one, and he made good on that promise when his pain meds made him sick. Friends are fun like that.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I did taste some hand soap as research for this fic and  
> A. Dont try that at home kids, soap is poisonous  
> B. Tastes really fucking bad
> 
> don't say i never suffered for my art  
> you know i would taste soap but what i didn't do is get a beta, please do not sue me
> 
> side note: People at the hospital are more chill about vomiting blood than you would think. I took my roommate to the hospital once cuz she was vomiting blood and they were like yeah okay, and what else
> 
> hospitals have cardboard vomit bowls now which i did not include in the fic but thats a fun fact. they also have cardboard bed pans but those weren't relevant either.
> 
> last note: i changed the name of this fic cuz it was kinda long? and it made too much sense


End file.
